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<blockquote data-quote="Mark Chance" data-source="post: 4422671" data-attributes="member: 2795"><p>Orinar, Menno, Branden, and the halfling Xaiel enjoy a fine meal and some lively conversation. The other table of adventurers keep their conversation low except when laughing or cursing. The gnome on the harpsichord keeps up a frenetic pace, running through an assortment of bawdy ballads. After about an hour, a soldier enters the tavern. The gnome stops playing, and the soldier speaks loudly:</p><p></p><p>"All adventurers are to report to the chapel near the inner gatehouse within the quarter hour!"</p><p></p><p>And with that, the soldier about faces and leaves.</p><p></p><p>The table led by the dwarf lets loose a stream of curses and complaints as they gather up their gear and trudge out of the tavern. After a bit, Orinar and company follow. The chapel is reached by heading back toward the west and then north through the alley between the smithy and the provisioner. What appear to be two private residences sit across a courtyard from a two-story guildhouse. North of these structures is a long courtyard running east to west in front of the inner gatehouse that protects the inner bailey.</p><p></p><p>The chapel stands several yards east of the inner gatehouse, flush with the wall that divides the outer and inner baileys. The chapel has a peaked roof two stories tall. The unmistakable martial symbol of Hieroneous shines boldly in stained glass above the open double doors. The interior is one large room about 60 feet deep and 20 feet wide. A prominent altar occupies the eastern end of the chapel. Another stained glass window depicting Hieroneous in full regalia rises behind the altar. This window is 20 feet tall and 8 feet wide. Aside from the dwarf-led party from the tavern, there are five other adventurers present, including a tall man with silvery hair and a breastplate, sitting alone in the first pew.</p><p></p><p>Once everyone is seated, a silence settles over the chapel. Time passes. Restlessness grows, and whispered conversations ensue. Snippets can be overheard:</p><p></p><p>"...merchant imprisoned in the caves. Maybe there's a reward..."</p><p></p><p>"...wizard who destroys intruders in the caves..."</p><p></p><p>"...nobody returned from the caves alive..."</p><p></p><p>"...more than one orc tribe in the caves..."</p><p></p><p>A sharp <em>rap! rap! rap!</em> -- metal against stone -- brings all talking to an abrupt halt. Entering the sanctuary from a door to the north of the altar is an ancient human, leaning heavily on an ironshod staff. He wears ceremonial plate armor polished to a mirror finish. As he walks, he speaks, his voice's strong and clear.</p><p></p><p>"Welcome to Borderland Keep. I am Curate Anselm, and you're hear because you've answered the call to assist us against the forces of evil that menace this frontier. As such, you answer to me. When you were admitted to the keep, you were told by the corporal of the watch about the necessity of signing in and out. There are other laws that must be obeyed, chief of which is this: The inner baily is forbidden to you unless specifically invited. Obey the laws of Borderland Keep, and you can be of good service. Break these laws, and you will answer for your transgression. In these matters, I am judge and jury. There is no court of appeal."</p><p></p><p>Now in position before the altar, Curate Anselm waits until his last words stop echoing.</p><p></p><p>"If you don't like what you hear, depart now." He waits again. Someone coughs. Another mutters something. No one gets up to leave. "Very well, then. Questions?"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mark Chance, post: 4422671, member: 2795"] Orinar, Menno, Branden, and the halfling Xaiel enjoy a fine meal and some lively conversation. The other table of adventurers keep their conversation low except when laughing or cursing. The gnome on the harpsichord keeps up a frenetic pace, running through an assortment of bawdy ballads. After about an hour, a soldier enters the tavern. The gnome stops playing, and the soldier speaks loudly: "All adventurers are to report to the chapel near the inner gatehouse within the quarter hour!" And with that, the soldier about faces and leaves. The table led by the dwarf lets loose a stream of curses and complaints as they gather up their gear and trudge out of the tavern. After a bit, Orinar and company follow. The chapel is reached by heading back toward the west and then north through the alley between the smithy and the provisioner. What appear to be two private residences sit across a courtyard from a two-story guildhouse. North of these structures is a long courtyard running east to west in front of the inner gatehouse that protects the inner bailey. The chapel stands several yards east of the inner gatehouse, flush with the wall that divides the outer and inner baileys. The chapel has a peaked roof two stories tall. The unmistakable martial symbol of Hieroneous shines boldly in stained glass above the open double doors. The interior is one large room about 60 feet deep and 20 feet wide. A prominent altar occupies the eastern end of the chapel. Another stained glass window depicting Hieroneous in full regalia rises behind the altar. This window is 20 feet tall and 8 feet wide. Aside from the dwarf-led party from the tavern, there are five other adventurers present, including a tall man with silvery hair and a breastplate, sitting alone in the first pew. Once everyone is seated, a silence settles over the chapel. Time passes. Restlessness grows, and whispered conversations ensue. Snippets can be overheard: "...merchant imprisoned in the caves. Maybe there's a reward..." "...wizard who destroys intruders in the caves..." "...nobody returned from the caves alive..." "...more than one orc tribe in the caves..." A sharp [i]rap! rap! rap![/i] -- metal against stone -- brings all talking to an abrupt halt. Entering the sanctuary from a door to the north of the altar is an ancient human, leaning heavily on an ironshod staff. He wears ceremonial plate armor polished to a mirror finish. As he walks, he speaks, his voice's strong and clear. "Welcome to Borderland Keep. I am Curate Anselm, and you're hear because you've answered the call to assist us against the forces of evil that menace this frontier. As such, you answer to me. When you were admitted to the keep, you were told by the corporal of the watch about the necessity of signing in and out. There are other laws that must be obeyed, chief of which is this: The inner baily is forbidden to you unless specifically invited. Obey the laws of Borderland Keep, and you can be of good service. Break these laws, and you will answer for your transgression. In these matters, I am judge and jury. There is no court of appeal." Now in position before the altar, Curate Anselm waits until his last words stop echoing. "If you don't like what you hear, depart now." He waits again. Someone coughs. Another mutters something. No one gets up to leave. "Very well, then. Questions?" [/QUOTE]
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